


The Proposition

by QDS



Series: The Usual Kinks, Mark 2 [1]
Category: Usual Suspects (1995)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, M/M, Non Consensual, anonymity kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:30:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QDS/pseuds/QDS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Verbal Kint and Keyser Söze want something for Dean Keaton. And they will get it with their own unique means. Written for the 'anonymity' square for kink_bingo. An AU from the...perceived events of the film. The first few paragraphs should clarify what this is.</p><p>Important note: Adult. Emphatically so! Violent non-con, power games, and ableist language drawn from the source material. Massive spoilers from the film; a knowledge of it will help enormously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proposition

Keaton let Verbal limp into the apartment. Edie was out, so he wasn't worried; if Verbal mentioned anything about New York's Finest, she wasn't going to know. Christ, he'd be booted out of this place faster than he could piss if she found out.

Keaton had almost ignored the job when it had been mentioned to him by an old buddy he used to work with. Passed if off as some bit of information that he was never going to use. At least, until he got arrested. Not that he was actually trying to go straight. Not really. But to have the pretence broken so quickly was a massive blow to his pride, and the opportunity to take a similar swipe at the NYPD was too good too miss.

He didn't let Verbal pass much of the hallway. He folded his arms, while Verbal leaned against the wall, and waited.

“What do you want?”

“I want in.”

At least Verbal cut to the chase.

Keaton tried not to laugh. “You what?”

“New York's Finest. I want in.”

Verbal...couldn't have been serious, could he? All the sayings about useless cripples, being as useless as a cripple, burbled into Keaton's head. But he decided he'd be kinder. Unless Verbal pushed it.

“You'll just get in the way. Come on. You're not a hardcore crook. Stick to your scams and your cons and you'll get on just fine.”

Verbal looked like a kicked puppy. Really fucking pathetic.

“Come on, man, I need this. I want to get at those fuckers just as much as you do. Shit, I could actually get some real cash this way, not just chump change.”

“From what I hear you're pretty good at what you do.”

Verbal looked angry but tried not to show it. “Gee, Keaton, why don't you just pat me on the head? Kick me in the balls while smiling, why don't you?”

“I just might do that if you don't leave.”

But Verbal made no move to do so, standing there in that same drippy, pleading way.

Keaton shook his head. “Just go, for fuck's sake.”

Turning his back on Verbal, Keaton flicked his hand with a dismissive wave, and began walking towards the kitchen.

As a parting shot, he muttered, “Fucking gimp.”

Suddenly, Keaton felt Verbal slam into him, and he went sprawling to the ground. He winced as his knees smashed against the wooden floor.

“Jesus Christ!”

Keaton tried to turn and swing back, aimed for Verbal's left side, the weak side, only to have Verbal pin both his arms down and shove a knee against his back.

Keaton froze in utter shock. Verbal was using both his hands. What the hell was happening? He turned his head, slowly, in case Verbal knocked him down again, and gasped “How the hell did you do that?”

He met Verbal's eyes, and was horrified to see that the desperate, almost tender look was completely gone. Instead there was a hardness, a chilly determination, and a grin that was verging towards sadistic.

Keaton gulped, and when Verbal didn't say anything, he asked, “Who the hell are you?”

Verbal (what else was he going to call him, even if he so clearly wasn't?) responded by pulling Keaton's arms down, until they were both behind his back, wrists overlapped like he was about to be cuffed. Keaton tried to use the movement to get out of it, but this new Verbal was strong, surprisingly so. He struggled even more when Verbal pressed his knee into his arms to hold them there, and began to undo his belt.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Verbal cocked his head to the side. “That's a very stupid question, Keaton. And you're a smart man too. I would have thought it was obvious.”

That voice, whoever it belonged to, it wasn't Verbal's. Gone was the cloying tones; the ever-present edge of a whine; replaced with something that was confident, measured, and deceptively soft. Almost snake-like.

Keaton tried to shake Verbal off again, his stomach now clenching with panic, but Verbal grabbed the back of his head and smacked it on the floor. Keaton cried out, pain bursting through his head and down his body. He swore, and Verbal chuckled.

“This will go so much better for you if you don't struggle.”

The belt was off, and Verbal eased off Keaton's locked wrists, only to loop the belt around them and tighten it so they were tied together. Still reeling from the pain in his head, Keaton couldn't quite see what Verbal was doing, but he heard the sound of a fly being zipped down.

Keaton shook his head. “Jesus Christ...you can't be serious.”

Verbal leaned forward, and with a harsh whisper, spoke right into Keaton's ear. “Oh, but I am.”

Verbal reached around in front of Keaton, who tried to kick back, but his legs were being held apart by Verbal's knees. His belt was removed quickly, and Verbal looped it just above Keaton's elbows. Verbal didn't try and stop him struggling, because he didn't have to; Keaton couldn't moved them at all now, as much as he strained.

Keaton thought quickly. He could still get out of this. There was always a chance. He tried another tactic.

“Why are you doing this?”

Verbal unzipped Keaton's fly. He hooked his fingers around Keaton's briefs, and pulled those down, along with Keaton's trousers, down past Keaton's knees. Keaton felt the air across his butt, and shuddered at his sudden vulnerability.

“You don't have to do this. You can come with us! Christ, had I know you were capable of this –”

“I don't need your flattery, Keaton.”

Verbal's hands were sweaty on Keaton's thighs, his fingers brushing against their tender insides. They quivered slightly under Keyer's touch, and Keaton bit his lip, trying to will his thighs to stay still. It was easier when Verbal squeezed both of Keaton's buttocks, before pinching them and giving both a hard slap.

Keaton gritted his teeth. “Then what the fuck do you –”

'Need' was cut off in his mouth as Verbal reached around and took Keaton's cock in his hand. Keaton gasped, shocked to find he was already a bit hard.

“Hmm.” Verbal slowly ran his hands down the length of Keaton's cock, palming the head as well. “I think you actually want me to do this.”

“I think you're fucking perverted!” Keaton cried.

“Well, I was going to suggest also that you're the sort of man who gets hard from a bit of violence. Doesn't matter who is being punched, or hit, or shot, you always get a little bit hard.”

Verbal leaned forward again, mouth to Keaton's ear. “Am I right, Keaton?”

Keaton hissed, but he couldn't deny it. Couldn't deny the rush of a take, how he practically came after a satisfying punch up, and how it didn't matter if he won or lost.

He turned his head, trying to get away from Verbal's mouth. Beneath the scent of cigarettes wafting from Verbal, he could also smell his arousal.

No, not Verbal's arousal. Verbal would have been embarrassed to be turned on like this, but this man had no shame. This man had...well, Keaton thought grimly, balls.

“Now, if you let me just get a little bit of your juices, I can make it a bit nicer for you when I fuck you.”

Keaton began to pull away, not wanting Verbal's hand on his dick, not wanting what Verbal was suggesting, but Verbal's touch sent a burning sensation all over his back that swept down his thighs. He gave a strangled cry when Verbal grabbed his balls, and simultaneously began to pump his cock. Verbal rolled his balls, one against the other, around and around, hand sliding up and down the shaft of Keaton's cock, only stopping to circle his palm around the head occasionally. Keaton kept making the same harsh cry with each pump and roll, and was only aware seconds after that he'd begun jerking his hips in rhythm with Verbal's hand.

Suddenly, Verbal's hand left his cock, and Keaton whimpered; but his eyes flew open when he felt Verbal's finger probe his asshole. He felt the wetness of his precum there, applied by Verbal on the outside and just on the inside of his hole. Verbal's other hand was still working at his balls, and Keaton concentrated on that feeling, because Christ, he wanted to hit back, to strike Verbal in the mouth and nose, but that damn fucking hand felt so good...

Then without warning, Verbal had shoved his cock right into Keaton. Keaton lurched forward, and he screamed “Fuck!”

Verbal laughed, digging his fingers into Keaton's hips. He thrust again, and Keaton's body jerked. The pain seared through him, and he screwed up his eyes, feeling them hot and getting wet from the stinging and the burning. Verbal fell into a steady rhythm as he pounded into Keaton. There was a tiny part inside Keaton that Verbal sometimes hit, something that sent sparks of pleasure all over his body.

But only sometimes; otherwise it fucking hurt.

“Come on, Keaton,” Verbal said between thrusts. “Don't pretend you aren't enjoying this.”

Keaton gritted his teeth. “Fuck you.”

“You mean, 'fuck me,' I think. And that's –” thrust (Keaton felt his cheek rub on the floor) – “exactly –” thrust again (his cheek was wet with sweat) “what I'm – ” two quick thrusts, and Keaton moaned, “doing.”

Keaton tried to breath slowly, tried to regain his composure, tried to not hate it, tried not to wish for the moments of pleasure between the pain. “For God's sake, _why_?”

Verbal didn't answer at first. Instead, he grasped Keaton's balls again, and for a moment stopped thrusting. He was massaging them gently, and Keaton trembled at the touch. It was almost achingly beautiful.

Then Verbal grabbed Keaton by the hair, pulling him up. Keaton was surprised that the extra pain made him gasp. Verbal leaned down, his cock fully inside Keaton, his other hand still rolling Keaton's balls around, and he pressed his cheek to Keaton's.

“You think you're top dog of the five of us? Really think you're the shit? Well, let me tell you something, Dean Keaton. The only reason any of us were there the other night was because of me. You were all there because I wanted you there.”

His voice was firm and steady, but his words confused Keaton.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What I'm talking about, Keaton, is the fact that your hands are tied, and I have my dick up your ass and I've got you by the balls. And my name is Keyser Söze.”

Any heat Keaton felt tumbled out of him. His sweat felt cold and slick. His breathing almost stopped, but soon it quickened as a powerful fear threatened to overcome him.

Keyser Söze. The name resonated throughout the apartment, making it sound almost hollow. Keaton knew what the name meant. He'd never wanted to believe it. But he'd believed Verbal Kint, believed that he was real, and the sharp turn around he'd just seen and felt...well. _Well_.

Verb – no, _Keyser_ , kissed Keaton's cheek, which only made Keaton blink. He let go of Keaton's head, and pulled back to hold Keaton's hip again. His other hand drifted back to Keaton's cock, which had gone soft, and he began to run his hand down it again.

“Now, shall we finish this?

Keaton was only half aware that Keyser had made him hard again. His orgasm was a short burst, but it was enough to tip Keyser over the edge, who slammed into Keaton three final times, breathing his name over and over. Keaton heard a very loud, satisfied sigh, before Keyser slowly withdrew. He let go of Keaton's hips, hand dropping away from Keaton's shrinking cock, and Keaton collapsed, feeling like glass shattering to the floor.

Behind him, Keyser was panting, but Keaton couldn't bring himself to move at all. He only shuddered when he felt Keyser's cum running down his thighs.

*

Later, fully dressed again, Keaton sat on the lounge, or rather, had been propped up there by Keyser. The damn back was too short for him to be comfortable; even without his hands tied. He'd chewed Edie out a couple of times about the pretentious modernist crap that decorated the apartment, but hadn't got anywhere with it.

The man formerly known as Roger 'Verbal' Kint, now Keyser Söze, was smoking a cigarette, and standing near the window of the apartment, looking out through the blinds. The view wasn't much, so Keaton figured he must have been thinking.

Thinking about the best way to kill him, no doubt.

Keaton watched him. The change between this man and Verbal was extraordinary. Keyser exuded strength and certainty, a hardness and a will to do, well, just about fucking anything, really. After what had just happened, Keaton was starting to believe all the rumours that he'd heard about the man over the years. Rumours he'd just dismissed with a wave of his hand, a knowledge that no such man could really exist.

Well, now he'd been quite literally fucked over by Keyser _fucking_ Söze. How do you go back after that?

Keyser turned away from the window, cigarette still in hand. “How are you feeling?”

Keaton snorted, darkly amused about the pretence of caring. “I'll probably shit blood tonight, thanks for asking.”

Keyser chuckled. “You've gone through worse, I'm sure. Besides.” Keyser blew smoke out and winked at Keaton. “I think you sort of enjoyed that.”

Keaton sighed. “Was that what it was meant to be? One last fuck before you put a bullet in my head? And then wait for Edie to come home so you can kill her too?”

Keyser wandered nonchalantly over to the coffee table, and stubbed his cigarette out in the glass ashtray. He pulled up a chair opposite Keaton, and folded his hands in his lap.

“I have a proposition.”

“What, you want your dick sucked now?”

At least I have teeth, Keaton thought.

A grin. “Tempting, but perhaps later. No. What I thinking is this. I had my reasons gathering you all together, until your lady friend pulled everyone out before my own lawyer could approach you. You see...”

Keyser recounted a crime that Keaton remembered as one of his earliest whilst still in the force. As it turned out, it had involved property belonging to Keyser. Then Keyser told of a similar one that Fenster and McManus had pulled together, and likewise, they belonged to him as well.

Keaton nodded. “And the truck the other night –”

“ _My_ gun parts, bound for Pakistan. And yes, it was Hockney. We are sure of that.”

“We?”

Keyser ignored that. “The summation of this is that you have all stolen from me. That you were unaware of what you did, and with addition of the fact that you are all very good at what you do, is only reason you are all still alive. Now, I'm curious to see how you all work together, and this hit on New York's Finest sounds like a good place to see that happen. I have already had my people contact McManus's fence in California – not that he knows who I am, mind you. He will offer you all another job, and we'll see how that one works out too. Assuming you all perform as expected, my lawyer will then approach you and offer one final job. That one is especially important.”

“Yeah, I get it. We do this work for you and our debt is repaid. Why single me out?”

“I will continue to assume my disguise as Verbal Kint. It has worked for me for sometime now. You will assume your role as the leader of our little band, but the plans are ultimately my plans. I tell you how they are going to work out, though I suppose if you have some good ideas we'll put them to use.”

“I'm touched by your generousity. What happens after that?”

“You stay on and work with me.”

That made Keaton pause for a moment, before he guffawed, realising what Keyser was saying.  
“Work with you? With Keyer Söze? The man who has no people so he can't be betrayed?”

Keyser shrugged. “I must have _some_ people some of the time, else nothing would get done.”

After a long pause, Keaton asked a risky question. “How do I know you won't kill me once it's all over?”

Keyser looked Keaton directly in the eye. “You don't.”

The next question was riskier. “How do you know I won't try and kill you?”

“Oh, you can certainly _try_. The question really is, of course, will you succeed?”

“This is so fucking stupid –”

Keyser made to stand up. “Fine, let's end this the conversation now and get on with it –”

“Hang on, hang on, wait.”

Keyser lowered himself back down, expression smug.

“So you _are_ curious then?

“What do you think you can offer me?”

An amused smile played at Keyser's lips before he spoke. “I'm offering you a chance to learn from the best. Do you honestly think you are a harder man than me, Dean Keaton? You could be, of that I'm certain, but you're not there yet. ”

Keaton growled, but Keyser had a point. Keaton knew how to have men killed, how to fake a disappearance, how to get men to follow his command. But he hadn't mastered the invisibility, and anonymity, the act of hiding in plain sight. The ghost story that was now alive and sitting before him proved that yes, there was a man better than him in that and so many other respects.

But Keaton had a feeling this was not an act of 'honour-between-criminals' good will.

“What's the catch?”

Keyser's expression was lascivious. Keaton rolled his eyes.

“Should have figured.”

“It's not a hard cross to bear for you, I think. And on my part, if you were wondering...” Keyser shrugged. “Your looks please me, and you are as close an equal as I'm going to find in this country. If I'm going to have a, well, partner –” he said the word as if it were strange in his mouth – “who better than yourself?”

“Am I supposed to be flattered by that?” Keaton asked.

He only got a suggestive raise of the eyebrows as a response.

Keaton sighed. “What about Edie?” He hadn't decided what he was going to do about her, but he knew accepting this would mean leaving her, one way or another. He doubted Keyser was the sharing type.

“That's yet to be decided. Depending on what she learns in the course of the extradition case we have her working on – you'll learn about that in due course – well. I'll have to decide on that later. I can make no promises.”

Keaton blinked. She'd mentioned something about an extradition. However, it was beside the point. It sounded as if it was up to chance what would happen to her, so Keaton decided he wouldn't think about that part too much anymore.

His question about Edie had really been to buy him more time, because Keaton's first instinct had been to tell Keyser to go fuck himself and shove his offer up his ass. In a slightly more polite way, though – the inevitable dying afterwards would be a lot less painful if he managed at least that. But he ignored the lizard brain and went to his second, much more practical, impulse – weigh up the pros and cons of this proposition.

Ultimately, though, there wasn't much to think about. If goddamn Keyser Söze thought he could get Keaton to bend to his will he was soft in the head. But right now, Keaton could either accept the offer, or die. And if he accepted, at the very least he bought himself more time to think, more time to figure out how he was going to get out of it in one piece.

Keaton was used to living on the edge, the ever present threat of death. But he'd always had buffering, something to fall back on, some kind of protection, and that was partly because when he worked, he was in charge, and trusted very few. He knew who was gunning for him, and he knew how to avoid them. With this, however, he'd be living in the lion's den, looking for a way out as well as watching his back.

He glanced at Keyser, who only blinked impassively at him. Would the bastard figure it out? If Keaton agreed, he'd be accepting a position with a gun at his back while he walked a tightrope, never sure if he was going to topple over, be pushed off, or shot.

But Keaton thought he could see a tiny glint of gold on this offer of shit. For if Keyser really did want Keaton in his bed, it gave Keaton more than ample opportunity to find a weak spot.

'cos weren't all men at their weakest when their dick's were at their hardest?

That thought at least made Keaton smile, just a little, and Keyser, it seemed, took the smile to be an acceptance. He nodded, and gave Keaton a look of smug triumph.

Keyser beckoned for Keaton to stand. It took some effort, but Keaton got to his feet alone. Keyser made a 'come here' gesture, and Keaton walked slowly, a slight limp from being fucked so hard earlier, until he was standing before Keyser. Now Keyer indicated that Keaton should turn around. Once Keaton did, only then did Keyser himself stand up and undo the belts binding Keaton's arms.

Free at last, Keaton lashed out, but Keyser caught his hand before it struck his face. Keaton growled, but was impressed with Keyser's foresight and speed, that Keyser had responded to his own test so well. Keyser shook his head as if admonishing a child, and he snatched Keaton's chin in his hand, pulling him closer.

“Are you going to behave yourself now?”

“Not bloody likely,” Keaton said through his teeth, menacing as possible.

It didn't frighten Keyser in the slightest. “Well, at least you'll be a challenge.”

Keaton now grinned. “I aim to please.”

Keyser ran his thumb slowly over Keaton's lower lip. “Oh, you've already pleased me very much. Now, about your suggestion before...”

Keyser pressed Keaton's hand to his groin. Keyser was hard already, and Keaton felt his own body respond to that as well.

“Shower,” Keaton said, firmly. “I know where your dick's been, and I ain't sucking on it 'til it's clean.”

For a moment Keaton was sure Keyser was going to slap him, but instead, Keyser chuckled.

“That's very reasonable. For now.”

Keyser slid his hands either side of Keaton's face, slowly kissed both his cheeks, and then firmly on the lips. There was no tongue, but the kiss was a seal of the agreement that had passed between them.

When Keyser drew back, Keaton inhaled deeply, breathing in the terrifying prospect that was going to be his new life, and the scent that was Keyser Söze.

–  
End


End file.
